Marr
Copyright© 2024 by Pixy VI
Chapter 4
Fantasy Sex Story: Chapter 4 - Marr is a young boy found to have magical ability. He is taken by the Mage Council to train to become a Mage. However, there is one slight problem, he doesn’t like being a Mage and he doesn’t particularly like magic or indeed Mages and would rather be back at his village just cutting down trees with his axe. No angry girls this time. Well, maybe…
Caution: This Fantasy Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including mt/ft Magic Incest Brother Sister Light Bond
With Marr having cut the stone, the unskilled labourers and children were quick to remove it. The wall was coming along at speed, helped greatly by the stone from the path down to the verdant plains below and from the rooms he had carved into the valley sides. He had also expended an hour or so, carving out a series of pools close to the wall across the valley floor, which had filled up from the valley stream that flowed out over the cliff. It seemed sensible to not only have a pool to bathe in, but one the women could wash clothes in and one that they could pull drinking water from.
At some point, hopefully not soon, Marr prayed, this place was going to be under part siege and a water supply would be advantageous.
He had expended most of his and Adeena’s power the day before, so Marr decided to have a day off to recuperate. Might as well go for a wander since he was down here. It looked surprisingly different close up than it did from the wall several thousand feet up.
Masons were currently taking down what remained of the curtain walls of the keep that guarded the Cliffside path up to the valley. Most of the stone had already been pillaged by the locals. Locals he should really go and see, since, technically, they were his subjects.
Well, they were The Prophet’s. What was he? A steward? Anyway, he should really go and see the ground he was in charge of.
Beyond the partly collapsed wall that was being taken back to sound stone, lay a defensive ditch that had mostly filled in. A group of children were in the process of starting to dig it out. At the speed they were going. They should have it done in a decade or so.
From the fort’s non-existent gate, a somewhat muddy road led away to the coast. The road itself flew like an arrow to the not-so-distant shore. Marr had estimated the distance to be about the valley’s distance to the desert. Maybe slightly more.
Hovels dotted the roadside, the walls clearly having been built from the curtain wall of the lower keep. From above, there had been no sign of any serious attempt at the making of a village. It would appear that those that lived on the plain were not great fans of socialising. He mounted his mousakil, which didn’t appear that impressed by the amount of greenery surrounding it. Adeena mounted hers, and together they set off.
The occupants of the scattered hovels were out tilling their fields. He may not have been a farmer, but he had lived in a village where the majority had been. He could tell that the farms weren’t big enough to support much more than the occupants.
“They are not big enough to supply us, let alone the tithe Salinazar is demanding.”
Marr turned to Adeena. “I was just thinking that.” Adeena raised a rather sceptical eyebrow at his words. “I was!”
“Hmmm...”
He didn’t need their link to read her thoughts on whether she believed his statement. He could see it plain across her face.
There was a gap between two homesteads that looked to be well overgrown, and Marr slipped off his mousakil to explore the ground conditions further. The covering vegetation was mostly bushes and some type of gorse. He pushed further in, and stumbled over something, falling to his hands and knees, thorny branches slashing at his face.
From atop her mount, Adeena burst into joyous laughter. Marr looked to see what had tripped him in the undergrowth. It was an old, very old, tree stump, which, as a woodsman was humiliating enough for a woodsman. He explored further. A lot of stumps. At some point, this side of the river had been as heavily forested as the other.
Whoever had cut the trees down had not planned or planted ahead. Which was poor forest management in Marr’s eyes. It also explained why the farms were so spread out and small. It would take great effort to remove those stumps.
No doubt, this had been where the Mutanbihad sourced the wood for their house beams and their ships. In the distance, little clumps of trees dotted the landscape. Marr doubted that each copse consisted of more than twenty trees a piece. Most likely self-seeded from a tree that had been too rotten, or warped, to have been of any use, having survived felling by the expedient of being just too much effort for no discernible reward.
They arrived at the little cluster of hovels that appeared to be the hub of humanity in the plains. faces peaked out from mostly closed doors. Faces that quickly disappeared when Marr looked their way.
As seen from the top of the wall being rebuilt across the valley end, this was also the closest the road came to the river. The road to the coast branched, the offshoot leading to the river. Marr steered his mount down the offshoot as figures left houses and the fields to cautiously head in his direction.
Marr didn’t spare them much attention. They would approach close enough to speak to in their own time, no doubt.
The mousakils reached the river’s edge, and Marr gave his enough rein for it to reach down and drink. Adeena came alongside, her mount also stretching its neck out to drink.
“We are being watched”, she stated with full certainty. Marr glanced her way. She was looking at the trees across the water, rather than behind them at the congregating inhabitants. Marr focused on the trees. He could feel nothing. To him, there were just trees. But women had a sixth sense about this sort of thing. Many a time, he had spotted a girl that had taken his eye. He had thought he was being circumspect in his leering, but each time, the focus of his attention had turned to look back at him with such unerring accuracy and speed that he often wondered if he was on fire or something.
“Nothing to see here. Just two riders stopping to water their mounts...”
Adeena looked at him in amusement. “Are you mad?”
“How so, Ads?”
“Well, for a start, we are both pink where everyone else is as black as coal. Secondly. I’m, to all intents and purposes, as naked as the day I was born, with a bloody great big and fuckingly obvious chunk of iron around my neck. That doesn’t scream ‘Ajma’ much, does it? Where there is an Ajma, you can guarantee a Maji close by. And then there is the walking armour stand that’s a foot and a half taller than almost everyone else, with shoulders as broad as a mousakil’s and about as intelligent.” Adeena looked behind her. “With the majority of the people who live here hanging back in obvious fear. No. Nothing to see, or out of the ordinary here...”
Marr looked back. Sure enough, there was now quite a cluster of farmers hanging back. Not much he could do about that. He turned back to the river.
By the surface, it looked placid and benign, but he wasn’t fooled. There had been rivers back near Tomisar, which held dangerous currents under a deceptive surface. Seeds floated and swirled past. They were remarkably similar to the ones back home, even if the trees looked different. A seed between two small woody leaves. He, along with Adeena, used to play with them. Collecting handfuls of the seeds and throwing them up in the air as they cavorted beneath them as they slowly fell, spinning, to land upon the mossy ground.
No doubt the seeds in the river would be congregating in back eddies and up against any rocks clustered together enough to form pools. Eventually, even those seeds would be washed out to sea where the salt water would kill them.
If he collected them before then, he could start growing a proper forest on this side of the river. Not that he would live to see it, let alone fell it. But those that came after would benefit from his actions. He turned to his sister.
“Do they have a spokesman? The farmers?”
“How the fuck would I know?”
“You know everything else. And I think you need to stop hanging around my men. Your language is becoming very...” he couldn’t think of a word.
“Indecorous?”
“No idea what it means, but I’ll go out on a limb and say ‘yes’.”
“Fuck you.” Adeena said with a wide smile.
“Promises, promises...” He said with a return smile of his own. “Now, ask my awaiting serfs which one is their headman.”
With a nudge from her knees, Adeena turned her mousakil so she faced the locals head-on. She spoke to them. They looked like they were ignoring her. Marr heard her sigh, and then she tried again.
This time, faces went pale, and one individual was propelled forward with haste, much to that individual’s obvious displeasure and fear.
“Do I dare ask what you said the second time?”
“I merely said that if the headman didn’t step forward, then you would remove the cock and balls of every man standing here. And that you would do it magically, all at once, so there was no point in running.”
“Well, there goes my plan of not ruling by fear.”
“My way was quicker...”
The ‘volunteered’ man prostrated himself in front of Marr, who sighed and shook his head. He doubted that he would ever become comfortable with the whole- what was it that his sister called it? Acquiescence? The whole acquiescence thing.
He should have taken Mal.
“Tell them that I want them to start collecting the tree seeds from the side of the river. A good job for their little ones if they want a moment of peace and quiet from them. And if they fall in, the bath probably wouldn’t go amiss.”
“It didn’t with you...” Adeena muttered.
“Carry on like that, and I will throw you in myself.”
“Oh please don’t, Mr Maji! It will take my clothes hours to dry...”
Marr looked at her. He really doubted that the only thing she was wearing, the very short diaphanous skirt of the Ajma would take more than a few minutes to dry out.
“I really doubt...” And then he realised and shut up. Adeena just rolled her eyes at him before she looked down and spoke to the man on the ground.
“It’s pretty impressive.”
Marr agreed with Adeena, as they stared at the cliff face as they rode their mousakils at a walk back to the cliff’s base.
He tried to picture having to attack the sheer side of the cliff, even without the bottom fort being part of the assault. It was going to be pretty horrendous. But then again, that was the whole point. Win the battle mentally before two opposing swords had even collided.
There was no guard at the bottom keep. Partly because there really wasn’t much need to garrison it yet, but mostly because he didn’t have enough manpower free. Once he and Mal sorted out a proper chain of command, then he could start dividing his small force further.
No one beckoned for his attention, and he didn’t stop, least of all someone deciding to take that as an invitation to speak to him. At the base of the long winding ramp to the camp above, he slipped off his mousakil. Staying on was the easy option, though not for his mount. Besides, it was a good leg workout.
Marr plunged into the pool he had dug out for bathing. The water was cold and tried to squeeze his heart and lungs out through his mouth. His leg muscles burned from the long walk up the side of the cliff, and the cold water soothed them as well as cooled his burning skin. Scooping up handfuls of sand from the bottom, he rubbed the tiny granules across the dirt and sweat coating his skin. Adeena watched from the bank. She had stayed atop her mount for the climb up and now sat at the water’s side looking poised. She raised an arm and pointed a finger.
“You missed a bit.” But didn’t elucidate further as to where the ‘bit’ was. Typical of her.
Marr stepped from the water, squeezing his hair through his hands to remove as much of the fresh mountain water as possible. He picked up his trousers and stepped into them. Adeena shuddered.
“How do you do that and not feel damp and horrible?”
He shrugged. “I dry quickly.” He could sense her hunger. A hunger that had grown the longer he had spent in the water. In fact, he had stayed longer in the pool than he would have done, had he been on his own. Slowly stretching his muscles as he rubbed the sand across his body, feeling his sister’s desire mount with each slow pass of sanded hand. Her eyes flashed and glinted much like the sun across the droplets of water dripping from his face and hair. He had considered dragging her into the cold water, but she would not have liked that in the slightest, and it would have killed the desire he saw and sensed building within her. It would have been a shame to waste that. He reached down and offered a hand that she took and he easily lifted her to her feet. He led them back to their tent where he fully planned on stripping off his now damp clothes and doing something about quelling the desire that was building within them.
The next morning, his legs were a little sore, but nothing he could easily ignore. It was what his sister termed an ‘admin’ day. A day where she forced him to deal with all the things he had been ignoring. Which was pretty much everything that involved parchment, quill and the cramping of his hand.
There was a repeated knocking on the tent pole at the entrance to their tent, which was both urgent and timid at the same time.
“Yes?” Marr called out. Adeena was currently trying to teach him Ryadi. Which was going badly, as did most of his language lessons. As usual, he had forgotten almost everything he had learned at the last lesson. He welcomed any excuse to do something else.
Two very nervous men cautiously entered the tent, the second one holding the tent flap open, even as he entered, as though he was a heartbeat from fleeing back out. He certainly looked like a loud breath would send him fleeing.
Marr sighed; this was not going to be pleasant. One way or another. Both men looked around. Their looks of fear turning momentarily to surprise. It happened often enough that Marr was genuinely curious as to what people thought the inside of his tent looked like.
The first babbled something in Ryadi and threw himself prostrate onto the floor. The second knelt a little more decorously, speaking out in halting Marina.
“Maji. We have not much to give” He paused, obviously struggling to find the words he needed in Marina. “His beast is ill, and he strangles your person for sausage.” Marr tried to get his already much befuddled head around that.
“His wife is pregnant and near death, and he beseeches you for help, though they don’t have much to
give.” Adeena softly supplied, having understood most of the words of the babbling one on the carpet.
Marr turned to Adeena. “Thank you. Ask the husband,” who he was certain was the one currently flat out on the carpet crying hysterically. “What has happened?” He looked back at the second man “Actually, it’s probably best to ask the other one.”
Adeena spoke to the other one, who ignored her, staring intently at Marr’s chest. You didn’t listen or speak to Ajma; all the subjects of the Prophet knew that.
“Answer the Ajma!” Marr barked in frustration, not for the first time annoyed with the Mutanbi attitude toward Ajma. The second man scrambled to his knees and fled the tent. “Oh for fucks sake...”
The first man looked up, met Marr’s eye and vomited forth a torrent of wailing that may have been words. “Are you getting any of that, Ads?”
“Some. It’s mostly begging. He must love his wife more than his fear of you.” Her tone was rather pointed. Marr could appreciate the bravery required to ask of a Maji when you had nothing to give in return. He turned back to his sister.
“What could I do?”
“You won’t know that till you see her, will you?” Adeena had a point. Standing, Marr collected his sword belt and fastened it around his waist. “Ask him where she is.”
Adeena spoke, listened, spoke again, listened some more.
“Not a clue.” she finally admitted with a shrug. Marr reached down and grabbed the back of the man’s simple tunic and one-handedly lifted him clear of the floor and stood him upright, pushing him out of the tent. Keeping hold of the man’s clothing, Marr propelled him in the direction of the caves he had dug into the valley side for the housing of the outpost’s populace.
The man looked back and, catching on that Marr was following, supported himself on his feet and pulled away. Marr released him and opened up his legs as the man scurried away. Adeena was forced to start running in order to keep up.
As they entered one of the caves, the people inside hastily knelt. Marr ignored them. He couldn’t be done with all that grovelling nonsense. Partitions had been made with an assortment of whatever had obviously been to hand. Old blankets, dried grasses, strung up via a network of crisscrossing ropes.
The man, who had at least stopped crying, headed for one specific blanket-walled room. Inside was a cluster of various ages, hovering around a thin, malnourished woman on a simple cot who did appear to be in a bad way, fevered, her breathing laboured, and also very pregnant.
“Ads?” Marr asked.
Adeena walked forward, pulled the blanket away and placed a palm on the now naked woman’s expanded belly, causing everyone to draw a collective sharp breath and murmur. Marr didn’t understand the words but he understood the intent. Touching or being touched by an Ajma resulted in bad omens in the eyes of the Mutanbe.
“Out!” He commanded. They looked at him uncertainly. He tried again in Ryadi “Narind!” All but two quickly left. The man they had followed here and an ancient woman Marr took to be the pregnant woman’s mother. He looked at her, and she stared defiantly back.
The man started his babbling again. That wasn’t going to help. Marr gripped him by the back and again, physically lifted him off his feet. He pushed through the blanket wall and headed for a group of kneeling labourers who looked well-muscled. He pushed the man into them.
“Hold onto him.” They may, or may not have, understood Marina, but they took hold of the distraught man and held him back.
Back in the ‘room’, Marr looked at the feverish woman and then at the older one “Ads, what do I do?”
“No Idea.”
He collected some streams, but let them slip away again as he had no idea what to do with them.
“Marr, put your hand on her forehead.” Marr did so, and his sister took hold of his other one and placed her free hand back on the belly of the woman. Marr felt her grasp the power within him and channel it into the woman, feeling it flow from her hand to his. He kept silent as her forehead screwed up in concentration. The old woman just silently watched. There were sounds of a scuffle outside, shouting, a thud of something hitting flesh, more scuffling, more shouting that faded as the shouter was dragged away out of the cavern.
“The babe is weak, but not the cause. Well, not directly anyway.” Adeena eventually said, she paused, repeated herself in Ryadi, no doubt for the mother’s benefit. “Her blood is infected, and it’s poisoning the child.” Marr felt the pull on his power intensify. “Her organs are failing.”
“Can you save her?”
She didn’t reply. He didn’t push it. He felt the draw on his power speed up and, given he had nothing to do, wondered if this is what Ajma felt. The power leaving them with no say in the matter and no knowledge of what was being done with it. The woman’s forehead was a furnace under his hand, but strangely dry.
The woman struggled weakly, muttering words in her fever. She was pale, very pale, and Marr had a horrible feeling about this. He looked at the mother; her eyes met his. She was stoic, but she knew. He could see it in her eyes.
Marr wondered what it was like to sit there and watch your child die. He wondered if he would ever have children. Be a father. How would he cope? Badly. He knew that already. There was a silence. Ominous in its existence.
The cavern that had been bustling, echoing with the sounds of footsteps, of children playing, annoying the adults. Had gone silent. An oppressiveness hung in the air. As though everyone knew. Were awaiting the inevitable.
Adeena’s hand slipped from his, clouted him over the ear. “Focus.” she said simply, slipping her hand back into his.
Focus on what?
Adeena lifted their joined hands and placed them on the woman’s chest, between her swollen breasts.
“Can you feel her heart?” Adeena asked.
How?
Marr looked down at the ribs prominent through the skin. He had thought he had been feeding his people enough. Obviously not. He wanted to be a good leader. To lead by example, not by fear.
Fingernails dug painfully into his flesh, disrupting his thoughts. He tried to clear his mind, focus on the matter at hand, looking beyond the skin with more than his eyes. The pulsing swirl of colour. Of energy. Though it was mostly turgid rather than a swirl.
“How.” He paused “What do I do?”
“I don’t know. Look at your own, try and match them, or something.”
That was easier said than done. And weren’t men’s and women’s bodies different? He turned to look at Adeena, tried to see inside her, but the exterior of her body kept distracting him. He closed his eyes and used the ring of the collar and their own mysterious connection to feel inside her, see the swirl of energy, study the pulse. He encapsulated the swirl, used it as a template to bolster and energise the now almost placid colours in the woman beneath them.
That wasn’t good.
He took hold of his power, plunged it into the stillness, churning it back into movement that mimicked his sister’s. The body under their hands arched, and a wail escaped from between the pale blue lips.
The body went limp.
Oh fuck...
Marr poured everything he had through his hands, feeling the power flow in every direction, guided by something within the woman.
He didn’t waste his time and effort on the why or the how. That was his sister’s purview. The body beneath their hands appeared to know what to do with the life being fed into it, and that was good enough for Marr.
The swirl stabilised, and Marr cautiously pulled away from it. It continued on its own. Opening his eyes, he looked at Adeena. She looked tired, vulnerable, a little bedraggled and sexy as hell. He was still linked to her, and he let their personal connection drop. He was hard, aroused, perplexed as to why.
He wanted her, to be in her, to let their colours mix. He deliberately bit his tongue, trying to derail his carnal thoughts away from his sister. There was a time and a place, and this was neither.
Colour was creeping back into the woman. Her breathing had steadied; her temperature felt not as high. Or maybe he had just become used to it.
“She’s asleep.” Adeena said simply.
Marr didn’t want to ask, but some things could not be ignored. “The bairn?”
“Awake, but untroubled.”
Adeena pulled her clammy hand from his and spoke to the mother in Ryadi.
Marr watched the strength flow from the mother’s eyes, weariness and exhaustion replacing it. The shoulders slumped, and in a single heartbeat, she appeared to age another decade. She struggled to stand, leaning heavily on a well-worn staff for support. She placed a weathered, wrinkled palm against her daughters cheek, left it there for a moment, as if to gauge for herself. Tears trickled down heavily lined and weathered skin in silence as the old woman walked, joltingly, around the cot.
She gave Adeena a wide berth and hugged him. He cautiously embraced her back, having to angle his body slightly so she didn’t feel how aroused he still was.
“Typical. I do all the work, and he gets all the praise...”Came the annoyed mutter from Adeena.
It was an awkward embrace, and Marr pulled away as quickly as he could. The mother said nothing, and they both turned to look at the invalid as Adeena pulled the old blanket back over the woman’s nakedness. It felt to Marr like the most opportune moment to flee. So he did.
Outside, faces stared at him. He couldn’t meet their eyes. He wanted light. He wanted air. And most importantly, he wanted Adeena.
Outside the cavern, he satiated his desire for light and air.
There was a group of men. The labourers and some of his own soldiers. Malink was overwatching them.
Of course he would be.
Marr approached. The husband was on the ground, on his back. Blood ran freely from his nose, and one eye was almost fully swollen shut. He had a man on every limb, and one sat on his chest. He hadn’t gone down easily by the looks of things. Marr was impressed. He hadn’t thought the man had it in him.
Adeena approached and her eyebrows rose, and her lips squeezed tight as she nodded her head, seemingly also impressed.
“Mal, let him go.” The husband turned his head so his one working eye could glare at Marr. By his face, Marr could tell that he expected the worst. “I will need you to translate for Ads, as the idiot won’t listen to her, let alone understand her.”
“Yes Maji.” Mal nodded his head curtly.
“The mother and child both live and will continue to do so, till the birth at least. But keep a hand on him till Ads speaks.”
Mal spoke to the husband, and his singular eye opened wide as the men holding him down let him go. He was fast as he leapt to his feet, but Mal was faster, easily grabbing him by the back of the neck, almost pulling him back off his feet again.
Adeena spoke in Ryadi.
“Mother and child live, but they need rest, lots of rest. You can see them, but do not wake them.” She nodded to Mal to repeat. Mal did so, smacking the man over the back of the head and demanding he repeat the last words said. Which he did, begrudgingly, as he looked imploringly at the cave mouth.
“You can let him go.”
Malink nodded to Adeena and made to release the man but changed his mind at the last moment, grabbing the man by the arm before he let go of his neck. The pair of them walked towards the cavern, the husband pulling against Mals grip like an angry leashed hound.
Marr, in turn, grabbed Adeena’s upper arm and, in no uncertain terms, guided her towards their tent.
As soon as he was inside, he pushed her onto and face down against the table as he undid his trousers. He kicked her legs apart and pushed himself inside her. She cried out in pain, but it didn’t make him pause or slow down. In her corner, Zunaisha pulled her blanket up to her neck and tried to disappear.
“I’m sorry.” Marr said later as they lay together in bed.
“For what?”
“For what I did earlier.”
She could tell he meant it. Still, she said nothing in reply. Yes, she hurt and she would most likely hurt tomorrow, but there was something darkly exciting about it. It hadn’t been at the time, but now she pondered it; there was an unmistakable thrill of excitement that now accompanied the memory. It had been, for her, spontaneous, and he had been brutal, unconstrained in his desire to satiate his lust. A demonstration that he could do so easily whenever he wanted. That no matter what she thought, she had not the strength to stop him. It was primal and teased something dark within her.
A demonstration of strength. That not only could be used against her, but used against those that would harm her or their offspring. She dropped a hand to her stomach. They were a pack, and he was the pack leader.
She had read, in a manuscript in the great library when she had still been able to go, a statement from one of Mutanbi’s leading philosophers- she had forgotten which one- that said that humans were only a few civilised meals away from the animals. She wasn’t sure they were even that far away. Something lurked under the surface, and somehow they awakened that within each other.
Somehow, and she was only starting to understand this about herself, she wanted to submit to her brother. She wanted him to use her. Even as she considered it, she could feel her pulse was elevating. It was why she had donned the Zimman; she now understood. At the time, she had thought it was the least unpleasant choice available to her. Now, she wasn’t so sure that she had been consciously in control of her decision.
There was a part of herself. A part that scared her conscious, rational part. A part she now knew existed. A darkness that had faced up to the light and scared the light away.
No, that wasn’t true. She wasn’t scared of it. It was her, as much of her as the light was. Her mind pushed, prodded. Only the unknown truly scared her.
The relationship with her brother was changing. Yet, the acknowledgement, to herself, of the change, did not unsettle her as much as she expected. Now that she was aware of the changes, she could think back to previous incidents. A pattern was forming. Everything in life had a pattern. You just had to be capable of seeing it.
It had started, she now knew, in the mountains as they had fled their old country of Marina. That first time, when they had joined together mentally and physically. Every time their colours merged, he became ... hungry ... for her.